


After Hours

by Sp00ky_Titty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Heaven won, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:22:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23698435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00ky_Titty/pseuds/Sp00ky_Titty
Summary: The apocalypse eventually got restarted, and both sides were determined to win. During the war, Aziraphale tried his best to stay out of everything. When it ended, the demons who weren't currently dead, were being brought up to Heaven. What happens from here, no one knows.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

War is something that is far from being kind- you don’t know who you’re killing, you don’t know what life they are being forced to leave behind, who is going to miss them when they don’t return home after the war is over with. You don’t know anything about them besides the fact they are dead because of you. 

Wars promise nothing but pain and tragedy; innocent civilians often get involved, they either die or they are left living with trauma. When you decide to go to war, hell, if you are forced to go into war and you choose to participate in the field, are you counting the lives that are lost by your hands, the lives ruined? Probably not.

You have heard of wars big and small, you have read your history books about them, some of you might have relatives that tell war stories, but there will always be one war that is never whispered amongst the humans, because they don’t remember. That is something that Aziraphale made sure of. 

He made sure that mortals didn’t remember The War, when it was over with, he made sure that it was forgotten about by the inhabitants on Earth. Although it was memorable, it wasn’t something worth remembering. It wasn’t worth all the suffering.

Aziraphale watched the fields build up with bodies from both sides, he vividly remember the stench of death tainting the air they breathed. Funny thing, smell is, you smell something once and now you have a very specific memory to it, smell that smell ever again and you relive that memory. Aziraphale watched the rivers turning shades of red from all the blood that was split, he heard the screaming from both angels and demons. That was one thing that he was sure that was something that he would never be able to forget, any time that there was no noise to be heard, his mind made up the phantom noise of the screams from the battlefields. 

When he closed his eyes, his vision was filled with blood splattering and bodies dropping. Aziraphale remembers the way the humans would hide away from the angels- the supposed good guys in all of this. Their eyes would widen with fear whenever they saw those white wings, they would grab their children and dart into their homes, shutting the blinds and locking their doors. But never to the demons, the demons had never raised their weapons to the humans. They never harmed the ones who were not involved with the battle- they fought to protect themselves and what they believed in.

Aziraphale was roped into leading a group into battle, he was forced to take a ruthless group of self righteous ass hats, into killing the enemy, into harming the lives of others who deserved to be left alone. There wasn’t a bit of any of this that he had liked. He had been able to avoid this in the first attempt in the apocalypse, throwing the helmet down and going back to Earth to find Crowley and stop it all from happening. Not this time though, his attempts to leave didn’t work.

What isn’t widely known is that he didn’t fight, he was in the battlefields, yes, but he didn’t harm a soul. But, it is also important to remember that Earth was one big battlefield. Wherever he stood had the chance of being another death. He sneaked around cleverly avoiding battle, and instead mending wounds to humans who happened to come into contact with an angel who was cross. 

For what felt like a few thousand years, but was barely even ten, it was finally announced that the war was over. That, surprise, the angels have won- get a group who is bloodthirsty with a “good reason” to fight, there is a likely chance they will come out winners. Aziraphale watched bodies being heaved out of the fields and ditches, the demons being roughly dragged into Heaven. Some were going without a fight, but there were plenty who went kicking and screaming. Aziraphale watched the demons who were just alive enough to stand being taken away, rapidly looking between their faces for the bright red hair and yellow serpent that belonged to Crowley.

“Aziraphale!” A familiar voice shouted from the distance. Aziraphale looked around for the source of the voice. A hand grasped onto his right shoulder, startling Aziraphale, and his only instinct was to grab his flaming sword. Although he never used it to kill anyone, he did use it as a threat to stay away from him.

“Woah there,” the voice started, “it's just me.” Aziraphale was quick to notice that it was Gabriel who was now standing his hands up in a weak protest. “We need angels who aren’t too badly hurt to bring up the left over demons.” That sentence made Aziraphale’s stomach turn in a way that shouldn't be allowed.

“So. . . can you?” Gabriel asked slowly, hands folded neatly in front of him.

Aziraphale nodded. “Er, yeah. Yeah.”

“Wonderful!” Gabriel clapped his hands and smiled widely. Just as quickly he appeared, he left.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and began to make rounds to the demons who weren’t dead on the ground. Not once did he raise his voice at any of them, Aziraphale was quick to understand that although he himself was terrified, they were more so. He led each of them away from Earth and to Heaven with a gentle hand resting on their back, guiding them to where they needed to be. Aziraphale was being patient with the ones who refused to go at first, he let them yell, throw rock weakly at him, let them blame him for everything, but eventually, they were led with a smile he hoped didn't look pained, and a hand that they held on hard to.

Aziraphale would ask them if they had seen Crowley, dead or alive. Hell had always had their rumors and speculations that the demon and angel were kind to one another, that they didn’t see each other as enemies, that they were friends even, but as long as Crowley got his job done, no one actually cared. That day, many of them had learned those rumours were true, and that there was at least one kind angel in heaven. 

Eventually Earth was wiped away with all the bodies of angels and demons, the blood was cleaned up, and Aziraphale convinced the archangels to not let the humans remember any of it.

Aziraphale was scared of where things were going to go from here. He knew that Heaven  _ used _ to be a nice place, a place that felt like home, but once the Fall, it was never the same. Everyone was on edge, waiting for the next rebellion, the next group of angels to drop from where they stood. Although that never happened, they still had their guard up. That constant fear will do things to you.

Aziraphale was only created when the Garden was created by Her, he didn’t exist when Heaven could be called a peaceful place, and it was something that was hard to believe in when Crowley had ever mentioned Up There. 

Crowley, although falling from Heaven, didn’t remember anything but kindness, up until the Fall. When he was good and drunk, he would tell Aziraphale stories about making the stars and galaxies, how  _ kind _ everyone was,and how he had felt betrayed once they were thrown out. They were thrown out and forced to defend themselves and start everything from scratch. How everyone was suddenly hurt and lost and angry, and it never really stopped. But, underneath all the sadness, he did miss Heaven, even though he said, especially after seeing what it had become when he was up there as Aziraphale, he didn’t ever want to be there ever again. But Aziraphale knew he missed it; not Heaven, per say, but the sense of family up there, he had made it clear when he was drunk that he missed the stars. Missed Her. Aziraphale was sure all the demons thought in a much similar manner.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Earth was cleared of any evidence that there was The War, angels and demons gathered in Heaven, listening to the remaining archangels speak. They spoke of how brave all the angels were, and how well they all fought in the battle. They were being congratulated for fighting “for the greater good”. The archangels were talking about how proud She must be, but She didn’t show up to congratulate them, not once did she show any sign of feeling proud of the the fact Her children went to war and killed eachother. Aziraphale suspected that, maybe, this wasn’t the original plan, that  _ this _ isn’t what She wanted. Maybe, She really did abandon them, and all of this was something that looslry represented free will.

While the angels were soaking in the praise they were receiving, the demons stood to the side, mumbling amongst themselves. They took in how much Heaven changed, it seemed much more like an office building than like, well,  _ Heaven _ . It was no longer homely, they couldn’t feel Her love in here. They once thought that when they Fell, that it was only the demon’s who had Her love striiped away. Perhaps it wasn’t, maybe it was a sudden thing, but gradual; either way, Her love no longer existed in Heaven.

Aziraphale stood close to the demons throughout all of this, he felt the need to protect the vulnerable creatures, much like he did with Crowley when they first met. He knew that if he didn’t do what he could to protect them for wahtever may be coming, then no one else probably would. Aziraphale was, after all, designed to guard and protect those who needed it, he was supposed to guard the fragile lives, and he planned on doing just that. He could tell himself that what he is doing is because he’s an angel, it is the right and kind thing to do, but he didn’t bother fooling himself. Not any longer, ecspecially not after what he had just watched happen. He knew that angels were not inherently  _ kind _ , at least not anymore, not after the Fall. 

Aziraphale found it hard to listen to the archangels congratulating the angels, he didn’t feel like any of them were deserving of the praise. He couldn’t pay attention to the archangles’ speach, but he was able to pay more attention to the fear from the demons standing beside him, he paid attention to his worry about Crowley, and he paid more attention to the fear of what Heaven may become after this.

“Angels who fought in the battle will be given time to recover,” Gabriel’s voice boomed from the front of the room, this grabbed Aziraphale’s attention, they were rarely allowed leisure time, “and demons will be set to work immediately.” Gabriel spoke with a smile on his face, just as he always did. As though he was better than everyone else, and perhaps, that never once in his whole existence, he didn’t do a single thing wrong. Maybe, that’s what he truly believed.

“So, unless there are any objections,” Sandolphon began, with just an equally terrifying smile, “we will get on with it.” 

“Uhm.” Aziraphale raised his hand slightly, “I do. Have an objection.” He toyed with a loose button on his jacket. “Only a small one.” Aziraphale said in a much smaller voice than he started with.

Gabriel’s smile faltered a little bit, but took a deep breath, trying to hide his annoyance. “Of course you do, Aziraphale.” 

“Those demons,” Aziraphale pointed to his left where the demons stood, “they fought too.”

“That  _ is _ how a war works,” Gabriel chuckled slightly, “two sides fighting.”

“Yes, well, they are still littered with injuries.” The room went silent, everyone stared at Aziraphale.

“What is your point, Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked slowly.

“Er, you said they were to get to work. Immediately, that is.” Gabriel only squinted his eyes slightly. “How are they, the demons, supposed to work if they are injured?”

“What are you trying to say, Principality.” Uriel jumped in.

“If we don’t heal them, then they won’t be much help.” Aziraphale puts on a weak smile, hoping that he isn’t questioned much further. Gabriel still glares at him, trying to figure him out.

“Excellent idea!” Gabriel suddenly says. “We will send you and a couple others to heal them then, yea? We will get other angels to handle it from there.”

When the archangels finish speaking, the angels are dispersed, and Aziraphale and a few other angels capable of healing, are sent off with the demons. Aziraphale gently led them to a room that was now filled with cheap hospital beds, just enough for each demon there. One by one, demons filed into the room and sat on the beds, waiting for whatever is to come. At this point they have stopped shaking, but their fear never stopped.

That day, rumours began to spread like wildfire amongst the demons. For thousands of years, they spent their lives in a loud and crowded area where it was often hard to hear what someone was saying unless you found a designated room for a conversation. Whispering isn’t something they were good at, so when they thought that the angels and other demons in the room with them couldn’t understand what they were saying, they couldn’t have been more far from the truth.

Those rumours were mostly about what they believed their future was going to be for them. Hell, although not too terribly creative, did know a thing or two about torture methods- something that they didn’t think up themselves, rather they learned from reading the reports from Crowley. While realistically, the horrible things that they imagined were something that Heaven was incapable of thinking up themselves, that didn’t stop them from imagining up those scenarios. They had a loose sense of free will, while not being  _ created _ with it, they did learn a little bit about it; they did rebell for a reason, not just because they asked a couple questions.

However, in those nasty rumours, one did go around that wasn't anything but nice. Among the whispers of the pain yet to come, they still held some hope. They talked about an angel who was nice, who seemed to be rather protective over them, making sure that they were safe. An angel who was patient, who led them away from the fields of piled corpses. An angel who spoke gently, and used nothing but kind words, who wasn't condescending. An angel who healed the injured demons until their energy was drained, and who would come back day after day, healing who they could with whatever energy was left. An angel who was  _ different _ .

It was no secret really who that angel was, Aziraphale was the only angel there who was patient with them, who made small talk with the demons so they didn't sit there in uncomfortable silence, who used nearly every bit of energy that he had, making sure that the demons were being healed thoroughly. Although Aziraphale knew who they were whispering about, he let them believe that he didn’t hear their whispers, he let them keep (poorly) whispering to each other and thinking that the angels in the room were not able to hear them.

***

Today was going to be one of the last of Aziraphale being in Heaven for a while- he had talked to Gabriel abouthwat he was expected to do after he was done with this. He was told: “Do as you will, it is a time to recover, however long that may take! I expect that you are going to take a bit longer than the others because living among humanity has made you rather soft.” Aziraphale had chosen not to be offended by what Gabriel had told him, and took what he could.

Aziraphale was currently sitting on the side of the bed, healing one of the many broken bones of a demon, trying to keep a conversation going more or less to fill the awkward quietness. Aziraphale found that, with this particular demon, he was having a conversation that he could see having with Crowley in the beginning, or when he was heavily drunk.

“Of course we danced,” The demon, called Astaroth, laughed, “what else were we going to do? Can’t work all the time, gotta be able to take a step back once in a while.”

“Yes, but  _ disco _ of all things?” Aziraphale chuckled slightly. “Better than not dancing at all, I guess.”

“Why aren’t others like you?” Astaroth quickly changed the subject, no longer laughing with Aziraphale.

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale askes, eyebrows knitted with confusion.

“You aren’t like the other angels. Why?”Astaroth asks, curiosity getting the better of them.

“I have been on Earth for quite a long time.” Aziraphale says.

“But that isn't it, is it? You are  _ nice _ , angels aren’t that. Not usually. You question things-”

“I, no, I-”

“You do, I see it.” Astaroth says matter of factly.“They’re jealous, you know.”

“What?” Aziraphale stops healing the bone in the demon’s arm, leaning to the side just enough to see their face. Try to understand what they are going on about.

“The angels, and especially the demons. Everything you’ve done, and despite it all, you remain unfallen.” Astaroth takes a few breaths, trying to get to their point. “It's because you’re kind, above all else, no matter what, you are kind. You’re not like them. Why?”

Aziraphale only shook his head and went back to working on that bone in silence.

“It wasn’t fair.” Astaroth said quietly. “I just wanted to know things. Wasn’t told that knowledge was something that I shouldn’t be seeking.” Astaroth sulked for a moment before sitting straight up suddenly and saying “But! I fell. I still see it as unjust, but I got to learn things without being punished for it. Still don’t see curiosity as something wrong. Shouldn’t yell at a child for asking questions, yeah?”

Before Aziraphale was able to agree with them, there was a crash outside the door where the demons being healed were held. Aziraphale and Astarth go quiet, the angel trying to listen in on what happened.

“We found this  _ serpent _ hiding down on Earth.” Aziraphale heard one angel shout in a hushed tone. With that, he sat straight up, and finished healing the bone.

“He was lounging about in a park in London.” Another angel spat. “As soon as he realized he was seen, he was quick to change into his human cooperation and try to fly away.”

“We got him though, fell from the air and on to his face.” The first angel laughed.

Aziraphale lightly patted Astaroth’s back as he slowly stood up.

“Are they talking about-” Astaroth began before being cut off.

“I do believe so.” Aziraphale whispered. “Stay here, I’m going to look.” With that, Aziraphale slowly made his way out of the room full of demons, curious to rather it was or wasn’t the demon he’s been worried about.

Then he saw it. Crowley was standing there, wings all tattered, terribly sprained wrists, face all scratched up, broken nose, a swollen eye,and probably more injuries given to him by the angles.

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel said, who was now standing to the right side of Aziraphale. “I was just about to go looking for you!”

“I-” Aziraphale started, not taking his eyes off Crowley, who was now looking back at him.

“As you know, the other angels who were healing the remaining demons tapped out.” Aziraphale nodded. “And, I was wondering, with you going at this for weeks, and there only being a couple demons left, if you wouldn’t mind healing this one as well?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Aziraphale mumbles in response.

“Good!” Gabriel claps his hands together.

“This way, if you will.” Aziraphale says quietly to Crowley, as he walks back into the room he just came from.

“Ey!” Astaroth yelled once he saw who had come through the door. “You’re alive after all.”

“Yup.” Crowley says.

“You had that angel worried. Ask anyone, they’ll tell ya.” Astaroth goes on.

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale begins before Astaroth, or anyone else for that matter, continued, “find a seat, I have to finish healing Astaroth.” Aziraphale offers a smile he knows that looks more sad than anything.

Crowley stumbles his way to an empty bed, limping horribly. He kept his eyes on Aziraphale, eyes bare. No sunglasses to cover his all yellow eyes. Aziraphale is quick to finish healing Astaroth, stealing glances at Crowley once in a while.

“Thanks.” Astaroth whispers to Aziraphale once he finishes healing them. “I mean it, thank you. There need to be more angels like you.”

Aziraphale only smiles at them, and he makes his way over to Crowley.

“Hey.” Crowley tries to say nonchalantly when Aziraphale sits next to him on the flimsy mattress.

Aziraphale didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. If he did, he was sure that he would start sobbing. There was a lump in his throat that wouldn;t allow him to make more than a squeak, even if he tried to. So instead, he focused his energy on healing Crowley. He noticed that there were injuries that were given to him from the angels  _ after _ they got him out of the sky. There were broken ribs, kicked shins, and bruises littering his body.

While he was finishing up healing Crowley, Aziraphale noticed that there weren’t any fatal wounds, no deep cuts, no bullet wounds, no burns, no nothing. It made Aziraphale wonder if he even fought in the war, or avoided it like he did.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes when Crowly was free of injuries that could be healed (bad joints just kinda vibe, there are bad days and there are good days. They had tried before to heal that, but they were unable to do so, so they just had to find ways to deal with it.). They just stared into eachothers’ eyes, waiting for one of them to break the silence.

“I thought they killed you.” Aziraphale finally managed to choke out around the sob stuck in his throat.

“You’re not going to be able to get rid of me that easily.” Crowly tries to laugh.

“What,” Crowly tries again after a few minutes of silence again, “what happens now?”

“I’m afraid I’m unsure. I’m doing the best I can.” Aziraphale says in a miserable tone.

“They’re gonna put us to use.” A demon says on the other side of the room.

“Yea, this angel bought us as much time as he could though. Props to that I guess.” Another demon chimed in.

“Aziraphale, angel, what do they mean?” Crowley asks, the slits in his eyes thinner than they usually are.

“I don’t know Crowley.” Aziraphale says again.

The door to the room swings open and startles Aziraphale, who looks up to see Gabriel standing in the doorway with a couple of other angels standing behind him, unsure.

“You usually don’t stay this long,” Gabriel starts, looking over at Aziraphale sitting next to Crowly, who were leaning on each other for support, “is everyone healed then?” Gabriel asks in a hopeful tone.

Aziraphale nods without saying anything. 

“Good! Meet me outside as soon as you can, yea?” Gabriel says before leaving the room as quickly as he entered.

“Listen, I don’t know what you, or anyone in this room, is going to end up doing, but I promise. I’ll get you all out of here. Okay?” Aziraphale whispers frantically.

“Angel, we’ll be fine. It’s  _ Heaven _ .”

“I know, but-”

“It’s fine.” Crowley cuts him off with a smile. “None of this is your fault. You don't even know what;s going on.”

Aziraphale makes yet another weak attempt at a smile before standing up and walking out of the room, looking back one more time before finally heading out.

“There you are!” Gabriel says as he closes the door with a slam. 

“What happens now?” Aziraphale asks.

“Go back to Earth, I know you love it there, although I can't seem to think why, and relax. This is your time to recover. You’ll get your reward soon, okay?”

“Okay.”Aziraphale sighs. He doesn’t say what he wants to. He doesn’t say that he doesn;t want their bloody reward, that no one should be getting a reward or feeling proud for killing Her children. He wanted to question what Gabriel and the other archangels were planning. But at the same time, he didn’t dare to make him angry.

He knew what Heaven did when they were angry at you, they go after what you live, what you care about. They may not hurt you directly, but they will hurt things and others around you to only cause you grief. While Hell may have been great at torturing in the physical way, Heaven has always been good at psychological torure, hurting you emotionally. And with Crowley now in Heaven, under their rulings, he didn’t want to anger them. 

So, Aziraphale makes his way down to Earth, down to his book shop, and finds himself in the flat above the shop, on a bed, quickly falling asleep to drown out all the worry that is eating at his little energy he has left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still very new to AO3, and I'm also writing this in attempts to find a writing style, so any comments would be helpful and appreciated


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale had found that he had a difficult time staying asleep due to the worry and guilt in leaving Heaven that consumed him.He had learned why humans and Crowley had taken a liking to sleeping, even when they didn’t need to, but it was something that he had a hard time actually doing. It was something that could be used as a tool to escape the world when you hurt, you could pass hours of time with what feels like a blink of your eyes. 

Although sleep is often used to escape thoughts,and is meant to be something that is peaceful, sometimes it could be turned into something of pain. You are lying there unconscious, not in control of your thoughts, and sometimes, you will have nightmares. Nightmares that feel so real that you wake up from them and your cheeks are wet with tears.

Aziraphale had seen both ways sleeping could go, it is like a lottery. You don’t know what you’re going to get, you don’t even know if you are ever going to get a single peaceful night after such a vivid nightmare, but you keep going, you keep trying and hoping for a peaceful rest. Peaceful sleep seemed to be rare for Aziraphale the longer his emotions consumed him. 

The principality did what he could in order to fill the void of not being able to help the demons in Heaven. He was in and out of sleep all day and night. Some days when he couldn’t sleep, but was overrun with exhaustion, he would lay there, deep in thought. When he wasn’t sleeping, he would help people who needed it. Although this was something that he already did before everything happened, he made sure to fill every moment of being awake dedicated to helping those who needed it on Earth.

One memorable time, a teenager had come running into his bookshop, not paying attention to  _ where _ he was, just that he had to escape. Aziraphale had come out of the back room to see what the ruckus was, and was quick to sense the fear radiating off the poor kid.

Aziraphale did what he could, he brought the kid to the back room and offered them a glass of hot cocoa, tried to calm them down, and tried to figure out what was going on. 

The poor child was kicked out of their home; they had come out to their parents as nonbinary. They lived in a strict, religious household, and their parents had yelled at them to leave, gather their things, and don’t bother coming back.

“Thank you.” They cried, although their sobs quotes, tears made paths down their cheeks.

“Whatever for?” Aziraphale kept his tone soft, trying to hide his anger. Not anger towards the kid, no, but their parents. How could you raise a kid, promise them undying love for them, promise them you can tell them anything, that you could never hate them. Then, when they come to you, tell you a secret about themselves that they have been keeping in ear of making you disappointed or angered. But, in the end, they trusted you enough to tell you, and you turn around and yell at them, hit them, throw them out. You tell them that you’ve stopped loving them. Who can do that to someone?

“For being accepting? For not throwing me out when I told you.” The kid, who introduced themselves as Quinn said with a scratchy throat.

“Of course, dear. Why would I ever turn you away anyways?” Aziraphale asked, dumbfounded.

“My parents told me that God didn’t love me for it. That I was unwelcome for it.”

“Quinn, God doesn’t care how you choose to present yourself. She loves all life, She only cares if you are trying to be a good person.” Aziraphale smiles. 

Later that day, Quinn thanked Aziraphale for being there, for saying everything that he did. They smiled as they left the bookshop, promised that they had a place to stay, they had texted a friend where they could “crash on his couch for a while”.

Aziraphale continued the years doing what he could to comfort people. He went to retirement homes and talked to old people there. They always had so many stories to share, they would show him pictures of their children and grandchildren. Aziraphale would play games with them, and read to them, his presence tended to calm people who were around him, so he was someone people felt naturally inclined to go talk to.

Throughout the years, he kept all that up. Sleeping and helping whoever he could when he was awake. No matter how hard he had tried, he wasn’t able to run away from the worry and guilt eating at him. He hurt too much to go into Heaven, not just about possibly witnessing what he worried about, but seeing the angels. He had known for a very long time that they were never  _ nice _ , but he always denied it up until the War. In the War, he had fully realized that they were, and he was how he was not because he was an angel, because he was different. Any one could see that he was different; not just because he was kind, but because he didn;t blindly follow orders, he did things if he believed it was the right thing to do, completely disregarding the steps to The Plan. 

While Aziraphale was in the back room, he heard the bell above his door ring. He had gotten used to people coming in and out of his book shop. So, Aziraphale came out with an extra mug of hot cocoa. But once he saw who was at the door, he dropped the mugs that were in his hands. Glass shattering on the floor, cocoa seeping into the floorboards.

“Aziraphale, it's been a few years.” Gabriel stood in the doorway, refusing to enter the book shop. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He chuckled to himself. “Just stopped by to say that your presence is requested in Heaven.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale said, not fully registering what was happening. “When?” He asked.

“Now, or, as soon as you are capable of coming up.” Gabriel smiled.

“Now is alright.” Aziraphale said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Jolly good!” Gabriel snapped his fingers, pulling them both up to Heaven.

Aziraphale stumbles a little on his feet, suddenly being thrown off balance from being transported from one place to another without being warned. When he found his footing, he was quick to see the change in Heaven, it has only been a few years and so much has changed.

There were demons who were walking around, with clipped wings and collars, carrying around files. Their eyes were casted to the ground, fear and uneasiness flowing off them. When they noticed that Aziraphale was there, and when some of them remembered him, they calmed down a little bit, they weren’t as frantic, they had minimal trust in him. There were always positive rumours going around about him,the angel who never raised their hand.The angel who is kind just for the sake of being kind.

Their rebellious attitude that they have had since their creation, were no longer part of them. All of this seemed peaceful, but Aziraphale’s gut strongly told him otherwise, that this was all just an act. They were littered with bruises that weren’t there when Aziraphale had left- he had made sure of that.

“How did they get hurt?” Aziraphale asks Gabriel, but he is only answered with a laugh, the kind of laugh that is usually shared among friends who have an inside joke that only they are finding funny.

_ This is because you were quick to leave Heaven, _ Aziraphale thought to himself,  _ if you had stayed, then you could have made sure that they were left unharmed. If you weren’t selfish then this wouldn’t have happened. If- _

“Come along.” Gabriel broke Aziraphales thoughts, already walking, not looking back to make sure that Aziraphale is following.

Aziraphale takes a moment to realize that Gabriel had started walking, and is quick to catch up with him, confused. He was led to a large door that he didn’t recognize. It didn’t fit in with Heaven, it looked old and used. It looked heavy, and he felt only negativity coming from whatever was in that room.

“Gabriel, why was I called up to Heaven?” Aziraphale asks slowly.

“Your reward.” Gabriel beams.

“I don’t want a reward.” Aziraphale mumbles, mostly to himself.

The archangel ignores him, and opens the door with a snap of his fingers, pats Aziraphale’s back, and walks into the dark room. Aziraphale doesn’t follow him until he is called after to “come one in, you’re safe in here with me”.

When he steps into the room, he instantly notices the smell. It smells something like wet gym socks, or rotting food. It isn’t a faint smell, it is the kind that you would try to cover up with a can of febreze, but not doing so because then it would just smell of rot with a hint of apples and cinnamon. The kind of smell that, when it hits you, makes you feel a little dizzy for a short moment, and is quick to give you a headache.  _ Mold _ , Aziraphale reasons to himself. 

In the dark, Aziraphale is able to make out heaps of, what he assumes, demons, breathing ragged. They were nothing but scared. Nothing but mistrust in whoever stepped into the room. When Gabriel flicked the lights on, the demons hissed in the pain of the light suddenly turning on.

“There we are.” Gabriel says. “Find a demon.” Gabriel gently elbows Aziraphale and walks out, closing the door behind him, causing the demons to flinch.

That’s when Aziraphale took everything in. There were cages lined against the wall like a dog pound. In each cage, there was a demon in a pile in the corner- as far away from the door as they could get. Some were as still as concrete, and some were shaking like they were thrown outside during winter.

Aziraphale slowly walked around, studying the way the stone floors were dirty, the walls covered in mold, and he noticed that eyes were on him, but whenever he went to glance over at the source, there were no eyes. He walked everyone, apologizing to each one for this happening to them, wishing that he could do something- he will do something, he’ll try atleast. Just like the demons walking the halls, the demons in here calmed a tad bit when they recognized who it was.

As he was walking throughout the room, he noticed that one cage, in the back, bright red hair stuck out of a pile of black feathers. Aziraphale immediately knew who that was, for there was only one demon who had hair the colour of fire, and he rushed over to see if it really was who he thought it was.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale said, kneeling in front of where he was contained. Crowley didn’t respond, instead he curled into himself more. 

“Your adversary from Earth,” Gbariel said, suddenly appearing next to Aziraphale, making him startle, “excellent choice.” Aziraphale looks up to him, Gabriel ignorant to the pain and complete, and utter  _ rage _ in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Let’s get the needed paperwork done, and you can head home with him, yeah?” Gabriel said as he unlocked the bars to Crowley’s cage, who immediately stood up and followed Gabriel out. Aziraphale stood there for a moment before he followed the two, dumbfounded, and exhausted from feeling all of the pain and suffering pouring off the demons in here.

_ Of course there’s going to be paperwork _ . Aziraphale thought to himself.  _ There is always paperwork. _

“One thing,” Gabriel started, “although you’re free to do whatever you wish, you  _ must _ keep the collar on. It tampers down their ability to use miracles. You can, of course, mess with it to allow minor miracles at most.” Gabriel went on while Aziraphale tried to figure out the papers that sat in front of him. “Oh, you might want to get its wings clipped. Especially this one. Don’t want them flying away.” Gabriel laghed, almost silently.

“No. No thank you.” Absolutely not. Aziraphale couldn’t understand how anyone could want to stop any being from flying. He knew that he wouldn’t want to be stuck on the ground if he wanted to fly. Especially after the Fall,where wings were burnt up and often broken, and they had to deal with not being able to fly away for a very long time. They are demons, they were given free will, with a price, yes. But free will nonetheless

“Good luck.” Gabriel said with a cheeky smile.

As soon as they were allowed to leave, Aziraphale went. He wanted to get himself and Crowley out of there, not wanting to be in Heaven for any longer than they have to be. With a snap of his fingers, Aziraphale and Crowley were out on Heaven and back in his book shop.

Crowley fell to the ground when they transported, and Aziraphale couldn’t tell if it was because his legs fell under him from the sudden transporting, or because doing so was ingrained in him throughout the handful of years Aziraphale was on Earth.

Either way, Aziraphale was quick to fall next to him, and heal away any injuries that he had on him. Injuries that weren’t there the last time they saw each other. Aziraphale wasn’t daft, he was able to sense the fear in Crowley’s aura, he knew that whatever happened, has left him scared of even Aziraphale. He knew that, after the sudden and quick movements in making sure that he was okay, and messing with the collar to make sure that he is able to as many miracles that stupid ting would allow him, wasn’t helping the case, it only made him a little more shaken up.

When Aziraphale was done, he sat back and took a deep breath to calm himself down. He did what he could to keep the anger from seeping into his aura, in fear of scaring Crowley further. He noticed how Crowley was picking at his fingernail, small movements that would go unnoticed unless you knew him well enough to know his nervous habits, or if you were trying to look for any movements, no matter how big or small they may be.

“Would you like something to drink? Something to nibble on?” Aziraphale asks softly. Crowley shakes his head, and Aziraphale lets out a sigh.

“Well,” Aziraphale says, trying to keep a somewhat cheery voice, “I’m exhausted, and I can only imagine how tired you must be. Head to bed?” Crowley slowly stands up from his spot on the dusty floor.

“You can have my bed, I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.” Aziraphale offers, but Crowly only frantically shakes his head.

“Okay.” Aziraphale sighs after a moment of silence. Aziraphale makes his way up the spiral staircase, and walks into his room and flops on his bed. He looks at his doorway to find that Crowley has followed him. Crowley, noticing that he has been seen, is slow to make his way next to the bed, and sit.

“The floor isn’t comfortable.” Aziraphale tries again. “And I know that your joints aren’t the best. You’re more than welcome to the bed.” Crowley, once again, shakes his head. Aziraphale thinks that he might have been able to even hear a very quiet ‘no thank you’ from him.

“Well,” Aziraphale miracles a pillow and dark, thick blanket, “here. Since you insist on the floor.” He hands Crowley the items in his hands, and Crowley’s jaw drops a little bit, and eyes wide in surprise that he was offered those simple items.


	4. Chapter 4

_ There was a crash from inside the bookshop below the flat Aziraphale had often found himself the past few years. The noise startled Aziraphale, distracting him from the book that he was reading. _ I didn’t even hear the bell,  _ Aziraphale thought to himself. He carefully closed the ancient book, placed it on the neat sheets, and threw his feet over the side of his bead, and stood up, stretching and cracking his back.. _

_ When Aziraphale made his way down the stairs, he saw Crowley standing on the bottom of the stairs, torn books scattered by the shelves. He was all beaten and torn up, wings limp, and hair long and matted. Crowley had a smell to him, like a sweaty teenager coming right out of the gym who didn’t wear deodorant, but. . . off, Aziraphale couldn’t figure out why that smell in particular was, but it was something painfully familiar. Crowley’s eyes were all yellow with a thin slit; Aziraphale couldn’t tell if the look in Crowley’s eyes was fear or anger, or maybe even, a mix of both. Whatever it was, it was pure instincts at play. _

_ “ _ You _ did this to me.” Crowley growled through his sharpened teeth. _

_ “What?” Aziraphale asked in a small voice. _

_ “If you stayed up there, you could have stopped all of it.” Crowley said. “Because of  _ you _ , this happened to me.” _

_ “No- I couldn’t, there wasn’t anything that I could have done.” Aziraphale’s eyes started to water. Crowley was hurt, and all the blame was being put onto Aziraphale. _

_ “Because of you, me and many other demons suffered.” Aziraphale stifled a sob, and shook his head in small motions at Crowley’s words. “But you were selfish and ran as soon as you could. You’re an angel, can never do anything wrong, right?” Crowley mocked. _

_ “I never-” _

_ “You can only imagine,” Crowley cut him off, “the things that they’ve done to me. Bet you don’t even feel bad. No guilt. No nothing. Maybe, even, happy and amused with all of this.” _

_ “No, no, no, no.” Aziraphale rushed out. “I feel  _ terrible _. There wasn’t- won’t be- a day where I feel anything but.” Aziraphale could no longer stop the tears from trailing down his cheeks. _

_ “As you should.” Crowley said, with a pained smile. “It’s about time you wake up. Take care of the mess you made?” _

Aziraphale woke up with a sharp breath, eyes shooting open. He sat up and ran a hand down his face, feeling the dry tears that made themselves home on his cheeks.

“It was just a dream.” Aziraphale told himself, running a hand through his hair. “It was just a dream.”

Aziraphale went to get out of his bed and go about his day as he had been the past few years, but stopped when he saw Crowley resting his head on the side of the bed frame, breathing softly.  _ He’s finally asleep. Better not wake him up. _ Aziraphale thought to himself and he carefully got out of bed on the other side.

Aziraphale finds the blanket he gave Crowley in a messy pile, and quietly reaches over the demon and places it over Crowley’s wings and shoulders. He watches as Crowley grabs it and pulls in closer in his sleep. Aziraphale sighs and tip toes his way out of the room, doing his best to not wake him up.

As Aziraphale walks down the stairs, a minor miracle is used to make sure that the old wood doesn't creak under his steps. He was hyper aware of all the sounds that were being made so as to not wake up Crowley, who desperately needs as much rest as he is able to get before he wakes up in a panic. Aziraphale moved around similarly as a child does when sneaking out of their room at night to grab something from the kitchen. 

He makes his way to the back room of the bookshop to make him and Crowley breakfast and drinks for when he woke up. While Aziraphale is cracking the eggs on the side of the counter and begins whisking them and milk in a bowl, his thoughts are loud enough to distract his hypervigilance to all the small sounds of the Earth.

_ It  _ is _ because of you, you know. You certainly could have convinced Heaven to let them all go peacefully. _

“That’s not true.” Aziraphale mumbled to his own thoughts as he poured the eggs into a pan that miraculously appeared.

_ Yes it is, and you know it. You didn’t even try to do anything. Maybe if you didn’t try to sleep away all the loneliness, worry and guilt, maybe you could have actually done something. _

“No, I couldn’t have.” Aziraphale said, staring intensely at the eggs as they cooked.

_ You are possibly the only angel who is capable of actual emotion. Of reasoning, of doing things on your own without being told. Defiant as ever. Disobeying orders when you think them wrong. The only one who does things because they are right, not because they are obligated to. You are probably the only one who questions things and remains unfallen. Yet, with all that, you stay down on Earth. Hiding away, doing  _ **_nothing_ ** _. _

“There isn’t anything that I can do!” Aziraphale yells at himself as he slides the eggs onto two plates, hands shaking, but careful not to spill them..

“Oh.” Aziraphale says once he turned around and saw Crowley standing in the doorway of the room he was in. His eyes were wide with fear as he looked at the floor near Aziraphale’s feet. “Sorry that I woke you. I was just-”

“I’m sorry.” Crowley says in a voice so quiet, it could have been missed easily. “Don’t, please. I’m sorry.’

“What? No, you have nothing to be sorry for. It's alright” Aziraphale’s eyebrows are knitted together in confusion. “I made us breakfast, see?” Aziraphale lifted the plates of eggs a little, showing him. Crowley lifts his gaze from the floor to the eggs in question.

Aziraphale sets the plates on the small wooden table, and miracles them tea and coffee.

“Come, sit and eat.” Aziraphale says with a smile, sitting in his own chair.”Please?” He adds quickly.

Crowley slowly moves his way to the table and takes a seat, glancing up at Aziraphale for half a second, before quickly looking back down. He picks up the metal fork and stabs the egg, and studies it for a moment before taking a small bite, chewing ever so slowly as if he expected it to be poisoned.

They both sat there in silence as they ate. Although Crowley only took a few bites, he drank the whole mug of coffee that was made. When Aziraphale finished his plate, he got up to wash that and his mug of tea. Crowley, noticing that Aziraphale was standing to do the washing up, he was quick to get out of his seat and grab the plates and mugs.

“I can do the washing, dear.”Aziraphale laughs slightly.

“So can I. I should be washing them.” Crowley insists, although no longer making way towards the sink, he had stopped where he was once Aziraphale said something. 

“How about this,” Aziraphale takes a second to think to himself on how he should approach all of this, “one of us does the washing, and the other dries them? Split the work up 50/50?” Crowley doesn’t say anything else, but he nods his head carefully, and starts back again towards the sink.

While Aziraphale was drying the dishes, he was able to feel how Crowley doesn't trust him. How Crowley is weary with having Aziraphale standing next to him. All the trust that the demon had given to the angel when he slithered up the Garden wall, not knowing him, just that he was  _ different _ from the others. Still rather fresh from the fall, he asked dangerous questions, and wobbled closer to Aziraphale with shaky legs, seeking protection from the oncoming storm. Trusting him without any hint of hesitation. But, all of that was gone now.

Aziraphale thinks about all the other times he was able to calm people down throughout his 6000 years of existence. It was something that he had always come naturally to him, he was the angel who was sent to kick Adam and Eve out of the Garden because She knew that he would be the only angel who would do so kindly, who would give the people a sense of calm. Who would do what he could do to protect them, even if it meant giving away the sword She gave to him. Ever since that day, he realized how nearly all creatures came to them in time of need, and how he was able to calm entire groups of terrified people, and demons, even.

But, for whatever reason, he found that he had an extremely difficult time doing so with Crowley at this particular moment. Aziraphale reasons it's because he knows him too well, and he is acting far from himself. Usually, Crowley, being the dramatic demon he was, made his feelings and emotions very well known to Aziraphale over the years. When he was upset, hurt, excited, happy,or what have you, he made sure to let the Angel, who he found himself wholeheartedly trusting since the beginning, know. 

Even during the times when Crowley didn’t outright complain or yell about whatever was bothering him, he made it very obvious that it was  _ something _ . He was rarely ever silent- only when there was mass hurting of children in one way or another. He'd go quiet then, even still, he would be quick to be drowning himself in alcohol without fail every time before he was ready to open up to Aziraphale. He would, sometimes, openly weep in front of him, his facade slipping then, letting himself be held and ‘shh’ed by Aziraphale. And Aziraphale had always found a way to help. But now, Crowley was silent and still. There was no drinking, no huffs of anger or hurt, no nothing. 

Now, he had no idea how to help. The Crowley that was standing besides him was terrified of him. There wasn’t an ounce of trust. Aziraphale almost asked Crowley what was wrong, what happened in Heaven to get him to this state. However, the idea of asking that flew out the window as soon as it came to his mind.

Aziraphale didn’t need to ask what was wrong, it was obvious it was whatever happened in Heaven. He didn’t dare ask what happened up there. Aziraphale didn’t want him to tell him if he didn’t even trust him right now; and he wasn’t ready to hear that his worst fears were true.

“Would you like to go feed the ducks?” Aziraphale asks when they were done with the dishes.

“That would be. . . nice.” Crowley says quietly. Aziraphale doesn’t know if he actually wanted to go, or if he was agreeing because he was too scared to do otherwise.

Before they were able to head out of the door, Aziraphale realized that Crowley’s wings were still out, and he didn’t have his sunglasses that he usually has on.

“Maybe put your wings away?” Aziraphale says in a tone of voice that he hopes sounds like it was a suggestion, and not something Crowley had to do. As Crowly folded away his wings, Aziraphale miracled up a pair of Crowley’s sunglasses. “Here,” Aziraphale hands him the glasses, “you don’t have to wear those, but I know you used to wear them most of the time.”

As soon as Aziraphale handed over the glasses, Crowley put them over his eyes instantly. Once they were secured, Aziraphale noticed how much calmer that Crowley got. Those glasses acted as a barrier between him and the world. It was a security blanket, it always had been. His glasses were the way that he was able to hide from others, although Aziraphale was rarely one of those people Crowley wanted to hide away from for one reason or the other, he was one for now.

As the pair walked the distance to the pond by a nearby park, Aziraphale made poor attempts at small talk, talking about “oh look Crowly, a squirrel. How cute.” or “that’s a lovely bird” or whatever he thought to say outloud to fill in the uncomfortable silence. Each time, Crowley never said anything back, just looked at what Aziraphale was pointing to and talking about.

Once they reached the pond, Aziraphale miracled two loaves of bread, and gave one to Crowley, who sat right in front of the pond while Aziraphale sat on the bench, to feed the ducks. Crowley sat close enough to the pond that if he wasn't careful with his balance, he could easily find himself falling into the water before him. He leaned forward with bits of bread in his hand, letting the ducks come up to him and eat from his palm. Aziraphale couldn’t see it, but Crowley was smiling while the ducks came up to him to eat.

They both sat there for a while, Aziraphale throwing bits of bread while Crowly sat on the ground, surrounded by ducks eating from his hands. Aziraphale could hear Crowley let out small, quiet breathy laughs when the ducks would wag their tail feathers, dip their heads in the pond, or any other duck mannerisms. When Crowley ran out of bread, he put his hands up to show he had nothing else to give them, and whispered “all gone”.

Crowley and Aziraphale stayed at the pond, surrounded by ducks, until it grew dark and Aziraphale was able to feel the fear rising in Crowley from the dark. Funny thing, really, a demon being scared of the dark. Crowley used to adore the stars that the darkness brought, but now he was uneasy, so they left their spot and headed back to the bookshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think is going to happen next chapter?
> 
> Kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated ans welcome ^^


	5. Chapter 5

Crowley’s pupils uncontrollably turned into thinner slits than they were before as he searched Aziraphale’s eyes for an answer when he heard other demons in the room talk about Aziraphale buying them time. Although questioned, Aziraphale didn’t have an answer; although Crowley wanted to argue, to keep pestering him about what was happening, he gave in to the exhaustion that was eating at him and leaned onto him for support.

When Gabriel threw open the door, allowing the handle to hit harshly against the wall, Crowley jumped a little. Although, if you were to ask him about it, he definitely didn’t startle and try to get impossibly closer to the angel he was sitting next to. He felt Gabriel staring at him and Aziraphale, but didn’t shift away from the angel.

He felt Aziraphale gently pat his hand back as he stood, and watched him make his exit. Crowley watched Aziraphale turn his head just enough to be able to see Crowley just as he reached the doorway, and gave him one last sorrow filled smile, before he turned back towards the door and left with the door closing with a loud thud behind him. Crowley stared hard at the door for hours, waiting and hoping for his angel to come back bursting through the door, to take them both back down to Earth to escape Heaven and whatever future it holds. Hope is a dangerous thing though, it tends to fill someone up with whatever they need to survive through whatever they are put through to get what they want. It has the power to either make or break someone.

_ What isn’t he telling me? _ Crowley asked himself.  _ He knows  _ something _ is up, why didn’t he just tell me. Is he that ashamed in whatever it is? No. _ He decides in his head.  _ None of this was his fault, I’m sure that whatever is going to happen, he will be there trying his best to stop it. He is the one good thing in this shit hole. _

Crowley found himself lost in his thoughts, he fought with himself, he didn’t know who to blame for all of this.  _ You are just trying to blame him because he is the one thing that is good in your life. _ He would constantly remind himself.  _ And that scares you, of course it scares you. The only other good things in your whole existence threw you away like you were a candy wrapper.  _ Crowley went back and forwarth between trying to blame Aziraphale for everything, and then yelling at himself in his head that Aziraphale should be the last being to blame.

During the battle in his head, he eventually found himself thinking about the time before the Fall. Heaven then was so nice, it felt more like a family rather than a cult. He was happy and proud at all of his works, although he questioned Her, and even got tossed away because of it, he still desperately missed Her warmth her presence in Heaven provided. Like a child whose mother abandoned them.

When he and Aziraphale switched bodies to avoid their deaths, he didn’t miss the way the air was cold and still. How everyone was paranoid although they tried and failed horribly in faking a calm and proud exterior. Crowley watched the way the archangels feared their own falling, how they were confused with how Aziraphale, although labeled a traitor, didn’t fall from Her grace. He knew that Aziraphale was the one angel left in Heaven that wanted nothing but to be kind to others, who fought to save Earth from Her Plan. He was the one being who remained unfallen despite that he questioned Her.

“You.” Crowley said in the general direction where Astaroth was sitting. 

“Are you talking to me?” Astaroth asked, looking over to Crowley.

“Yea. What do you know?” Crowley responded.

“I’m sorry?” The other demon knitted their eyebrows together, trying to decipher what Crowley was trying to ask of them.

“Is there anything that you’ve heard about what’s going to happen?” Crowley asked.

“Oh.” Astaroth breathes. “Don’t worry about it.”

Crowley felt how the other demons in the room tensed up a little. It was silent, you could hear the breathing and small movements from the demons. 

No one explained to Crowley what was happening, what they knew, they had all collectively chosen to leave him in the dark. Although, it wasn’t the kind of lack of explanation like school children spreading rumours about someone, giggling to themselves when the person in question asked what they were saying. It was the kind of silence that the angles in Heaven today held. Paranoid in being heard. They were back in Heaven- not forgiven, still the demons that they had become- and they weren’t too keen on finding out what would happen.

“What was Earth like when you were on it?” Astaroth attempted.

“Human.” Crowley smiled to himself, wanting to be back.

“So, are you not going to explain? We know humans live there, the planet was made  _ for _ them.” A demon said.

“They are so clever. They have free will-true free will, on their side. They chose to be good or bad. They get forgiven.” Crowley said, mostly sulking to himself than anything.

“Okay but,” another demon tries, “what was Earth like. We were rarely ever on it. You were the one put on there. You were rather defensive about the planet and life on it.”

“Plants changed over time, they evolved to be toxic to animals so they would survive.” Crowley mumbled. “Didn’t stop humans though. Now they harvest those plants for day to day consumption.”

“What?” Astaroth laughed.

“Yea. You remember the big lions and dangerous animals?” Crowley asked, getting a few nods in response. “Humans domesticated them, they’re pets now.”

“No way. The animals would just eat them!” A demon said.

“Nope.” Crowley said with a pop to the ‘p’. “Stupidly clever ones those are. They made themselves weapons to protect themselves with.”

“How’d they learn to do that?” Astaroth asked.

“Well, originally, they were given a flaming sword. When they were kicked out of the Garden, Aziraphale granted them with all the protection he could give them.” Crowley smiled. “But, some other animals use sharp rocks as tools too.”

The slow conversation went on, demons asking Crowly about Earth and its history, and nearly everything that he said, Crowley brought Aziraphale into the conversation. He messed with Earth as much as Crowley did, it was just credit where credit was due. That’s what Crowley told himself thought. That is, until someone realized this.

“You seem rather fond of Aziraphale.” Astaroth said.

“What? No.” Crowley says with his cheeks beginning to blush. “He was my adversary on Earth.”

“Aziraphale was the one in here earlier, yeah?” Astaroth continued.

“Wh-, yea he was.” Crowley said, stuttering a little over his words.

“Keep that one around, Crowley.” Astaroth says. 

“We could always tell when you two would ‘compare notes’ or whatever excuse it was you used to hang around each other.” Another demon said on the other side of the room.

“How-” Crowley attempted to speak, but was quickly cut off.

“You’ve always been a bad liar.” Astaroth said. “That, and you always seemed a tad bit happier. Not like we didn;t know you two were friends.” The demons who were previously quiet were now laughing to themselves.

Just as the demons in the room had begun to grow comfortable with each other, some even laughing quietly and talking to each other, the door swung open with archangels standing at the doorway, silencing them all immediately.

“Line up.” One of the archangels said bordely.

Most of the demons got up as soon as the archangel finished speaking. Some demons got to their feet and stood there for a moment, looking around as if they were waiting for someone to disobey, to say something, to do something, anything, but eventually they shuffled over. 

Crowley was the last one to move, he still didn’t know what was happening, no one was telling them what they knew, or even thought they knew. When the archangel saw that Crowley was left in the back of the room not moving, they took a deep breath and stared sharply into his eyes. Their eyes remained unblocked, following Crowley’s eyes, waiting for him to give in and make his way with the rest of the demons. Crowley did eventually get up, completely untrusting and unsure, but he wasn’t about to wait around and see what was waiting for him if he chose to not move.

Once Crowley was in the back of the line, the archangel nodded once, and sharply turned around.

“Follow me.” They said as they began walking. There were two other angels on the side of the door to make sure that all of the demons who were in the room got in, and to make sure that they were doing what they were supposed to be doing.

They eventually reached a room that was made of concrete. The archangel who was leading them to the room stopped and turned around, nodding behind them, and the other two angels who were following them went up to open the door.

When the heavy door was dragged open, the demons tried to peer inside to see what they were being shoved into. The room was dark and smelled like a bathroom that hasn’t been cleaned in a very long time. 

An archangel snapped their fingers and a bright light appeared inside the room, causing all the demons who were getting reused to looking into the dark squint. Inside there were cages lining the walls that looked as if they took inspiration from a dog pound. There was rust on the thickly wired doors and chains that were bolted onto the stone ground.

One by one, demons were being dragged inside, most of them stayed silent, and none of them put up a fight when they were harshly held by their wrists. They hardly made a sound when they were thrown onto the ground in the cages, being shackled and locked in.

Crolwey didn't notice that the demons were moving in front of him, instead he was trying to figure out why they were being put in here. He noticed a bunch of runes on the door that would prevent the demons from escaping once the door was finally shut on them. 

_ We were perfectly fine in that hospital-looking room. _ Crowley thought, squinting his eyes a little, trying to make sence of everything. _ We weren’t trying to leave that room, why the extra precaution.  _ **_What am I not being told?_ **

His thoughts were sharply caught off when an archangel grabbed a hold of his wrist and tried to pull him along. Crowley tried to pull his wrist away, but another archangel came up and grabbed his arm, and the angel who was originally trying to pull him by his wrist took a better hold on his arm that wasn't being gripped.

Crowley still put up a weak fight, more or less trying to get a look into the room, to gather as much information that he possibly could. While his neck was stretched out and moving around in attempts to look around the room without actually being in there, he felt something clamp around his neck, quickly draining whatever powers he had left from the exhaustion taking over.

Instinct took over. His eyes went into smaller slits and was quick to spread out his wings as wide as he could get them and thrash them around in attempts to throw the archangels off balance. Crowley kicked at them and tried to pull his arms out of their iron grip, but it was all pointless.

Crowley was eventually brought back to the end of the room, to the last remaining cage, and thrown to the ground. Before he was able get up and continue his fights, a strong foot was placed on his upper back as he was shackled by the ankle to the ground.

When the angels are done, they leave the room, and the light goes out with them. Crowley wrapped his wings tightly around them as he hummed to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to point out that I can't smell, and I know that probably had been showing in my writing. If there are any comments on how to help convey that sense, that would be lovely!
> 
> Oh! Also, don't count on there being an update this coming Tuesday, I'l have my hand full with new born pups, so it will be a 50/50 shot with an update.


	6. Chapter 6

The room that Crowley and the other demons were being held in was dark and cold. The floors were rough stone that only trapped the frigid air in the room.. The demons wrapped themselves tightly in their wings in attempts to preserve what little heat their bodies had, to try to reduce the shivering.   
From being locked away from the light (with only having a tiny bit of light seen from around the door) the demons eventually adapted to the darkness, and were able to make out shapes, and if they strained their eyes, they would be able to see smaller details.   
In Hell, there was constant excitement, it was overbearing and there was always something going on. It was loud, the only thing that stopped them from getting constant migraines was their physical inability to get one in the first place.   
The demons had gotten accustomed to that lifestyle, and even though Crowley had made home on Earth the second he slithered to the surface, he had gotten used to a similar lifestyle on Earth. He had quite liked the 21st century when it came; there was always something to do if you wanted, and everything was fast. Hell was uncomfortable, you couldn’t escape it no matter how hard you tried, but on Earth, you could close yourself in a quiet room if you had chosen to do just that.  
Rather any of them wanted to admit it or not, they have grown bored from the sudden change. They have even begun to miss what caused them constant annoyance.  
Now they were chained to the floor and locked in a cage with nothing to do but talking to each other. However, they were all too stubborn, embarrassed and scared, so they remained silent for the most part. There was rarely a peep out of any of them, well, all except for Crowley; he was beyond bored without anything to entertain him. He had tried talking with the other demons that were surrounding him, but each time, they had ignored him.  
Out of pure curiosity and boredom, Crowley rose to his feet and walked as far as the chains allowed him. He slumped his shoulders and looked down at the floor, noticing that there was a circle around him just out of his reach.  
“Prolly to let ‘em know how close they can get.” Crowley reasoned to himself, puffing out his cheeks and looking upwards, as if the ceiling will hold anything entertaining.  
Crowley tilted his head back down with a huff. He began to walk in circles in his given space, counting his steps as we went. With nothing entertaining to do, he figured, he would have to find entertainment himself. He kept that up until he heard someone bark a sharp “stop that! It's annoying!” Crowley was tempted to continue his game of sorts to annoy the other demons with the rattle of the chains and his hushed counting, but decided against it.  
He sat back down in the center of the circle, tapping at his knee. His eyes wandered down to his ankle that became home for the shackle.  
“Wait.” Crowley whispered in realization. You see, Crowley has been on Earth long enough to figure out how to undo the “u” shaped cuff.  
Crowley leaned forward, glancing at the door, listening and looking for any clues that there were any angels nearby.  
After a few moments of straining his senses, he quickly rearranged his legs so he was able to easily reach the foot that was connected to the chains. Before he finally reached the ankle that was now resting on his other leg, he looked at the door one more time. Nothing.  
Crowley moved his hands to the thick metal bolt that was at the opening of the shackle. As soon as he began to attempt to open it, a bolt of electricity ran through his neck, spreading to the rest of his body.  
“Fuck!” He choked, grasping at the collar around his neck, falling to the ground. He heard other demons in the room cackle at him, finding amusement in his hurt. When the shocking ended, he took a deep breath to refill his lungs after he realized he was holding his breath.  
Crowley ran a hand through his hair while he regained composure. He made a mental note to not try that again anytime soon.  
Once he was settled down, he went back to finding things to count. He counted the chains that connected him to the floor, how many bricks were in his share of the room, the number of cages, and anything else he could (attempt to) count.  
As Crowley laid with his back flat to the floor, and rolled his head to the side, looking at the demon in the cage next to him. “Hey.” He croaked.  
The only response Crowley got from the other demon was a huff, and turning over so their back was now facing Crowley. No one wanted to talk, they wanted to be left alone. They didn’t want others to know that they were humiliated for being captured and chained. They didn’t want others to know that they had been scared since they realized that She wasn’t in Heaven anymore, She left. But, honestly, why wouldn’t She?   
She was probably embarrassed with what her creations had become. Since the Fall, everyone was on edge, and they let the fear get to them, and Heaven changed, and not for the better. Her children were fighting each other, and risking the lives of Her creations on Earth.  
The angles now reeked of undeserving pride. They believed that, even though She hasn’t been heard from, or seen of, that they were all perfect beings who could do no wrong. The demons, the angels who fell, who only questioned Her doings, and were now sentenced to protecting themselves from an unknown world, having Her grace stripped away all at once.  
Crowley liked to try and tell himself when he saw himself spiraling in fear of Hell, and the never ending ache of losing Her grace and all the positive feeling that that came with it, was less of a punishment and more of sending them free to do as they wish. To be free to ask any questions and make their own choices. But he would always be quick to remind himself that it wasn’t that.  
Crowley layed on the cold, rough floor, thinking about terrible jokes that he would tell Warlock when he was a nanny.  
“What do grapes say when you step on them?” Crowley asked no one in particular.   
“Nothing, they just let out a little wine.” He answered when no one asked what, or gave attempts to answer the joke. He laughed quietly to himself.  
Crowley tried one more joke before giving up with a dramatic sigh and deciding that he is better off trying to get as much sleep as possible.  
That night- or day, there wasn’t any clue on the hour of the day, the level of darkness and proof of light from the cracks in the door was consistent- Crowley fell asleep feeling very, very lonely. It was one thing to be left alone, but it was another knowing that he had no one to communicate with, no one to look forward to seeing, to be surrounded by others but no one acknowledging his existence. And it was a whole other thing watching his only friend of six thousands years walk away from him without telling him what was happening. Crowley thrived off the attention from others, specifically one angel in particular, and to be denied that, he wanted nothing but sleep. What was Aziraphale not saying?

\---

Crowley woke up from hearing the sound of the heavy door opening, and slowly sat up trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Although he was initially confused, he was quick to remember exactly where he was, and that the door opening meant that someone was coming in, not out.  
As soon as the angel set their foot into the room, Crowley sat up straighter, squared his shoulders and unfolded his wings a little, trying to make himself look bigger.  
“Nice weather, ey?” Crowley shouts at the angel, trying to keep his leveled yet amused, although he is actually terrified.   
The angel ignored Crowley and kept stalking down the line of cages.  
“You’ll like this one: Why did the chicken cross the road?” Crowley asked in the general direction of the angel. It didn’t matter what Crowley was saying, as long as he was saying something and not cowering, then he felt big, and at the time that’s all that mattered.  
“Shut it, demon.” The angel warned.  
“Nah, that’s not the right-”   
“This is your final warning demon, keep your mouth closed.  
“Why? What are you going to do?” Crowley mocked.  
Although the angel didn’t make a sound, Crowley could see the amused smile illuminating off the angel as the bolt of electricity he felt when he tried to take off the shackle. The angel stood still as they watched Crowley fall over from the pain, and race after his breath once the shocking was over. Once Crowley was finally able to catch his breath, the angel returned to moving about.   
Crowley began to babble on once more, but this time the angel wasn’t paying any attention to him, and he only grew frustrated. He gradually grew louder until he had no more left to say after he realized that he was being fully ignored.  
The angel stopped in front of a cage, and opened it sharply. The angel forced the demon flat on the ground as they undid the shackle, and hoisted them up from the collar and began to drag them out of the room. The demon, after seeing what the angel had done to Crowley for simply talking, put up little to no fight.  
When they were half way out of the room, the angel whispered something that Crowley couldn’t make out. Whatever was whispered into the demon’s ear made them suddenly thrash about, desperately trying to get free of their grasp, but it was no use. No matter how hard they flapped their wings, kicked or bit, they were still dragged out of the room as if they were as heavy as a bag of flour.  
Behind the two beings, the door closed, and the demons were left in the darkness once again. Crowley stared at the door for a long time until a voice in head said: “What are you waiting for?” Crowley didn’t know what he was waiting for, although he was usually as optimistic as a demon could get, the little optimism he had walked in here with, began to slip away.   
Once he decided that he was done looking at the door, he layed back on the floor, and attempted to go back to sleep.

\---

Aziraphale sits in his old armchair reading an equally old book in the backroom of his book shop; it is silent save for the light breathing and the occasional turning of the page. On the wooden floor, Crowley laid asleep with his wings covering his eyes from the light.  
Aziraphale noticed that Crowley would sleep on a schedule more or less- he would be awake for around a day and a half, and then for the other half of the day, he would sleep. Even though Aziraphale loathed Crowley laying on the ground, knowing that he was cursed with horrid joints, Crowley insisted, and he dared not argue with the demon in fear of scaring him any more than he already was.  
Each time that Crowley woke up from his sleep, he would fear that Aziraphale would be upset, angry even, that he had gone to sleep in the first place. And every time Aziraphale had to reassure his demon friend that there was absolutely wrong with sleeping.   
In truth, Aziraphale was beginning to get tired of having to find ways to deal with Crowley's constant paranoia- that isn't saying he is in any way fed up with him, wants him to leave, or to necessarily be left alone. The angel has always been a rather impatient one (comparatively speaking, that is) and missed his very old companion. He missed the demon who "tempted" him to meals, who got good and drunk with him at all hours of the day, who rambled on about nothing, who had a soft spot for children, liked the golden girls, clung to any warmth he found, who glued coins to the pavement, and slept for nearly a century.  
Aziraphale missed his old serpent, and desperately wanted him to return, but Aziraphale wasn't really good at handling emotional baggage. But this, what Crowley and certainly several other demons, had gone through isn't just emotional baggage, it was so much more. Aziraphale was good at making others feel safer, happier, and any other positive emotion under the sun, but he wasn't good with this.   
Crowley was no longer loud, making his presence known. He now rarely voiced his opinions or moved about a lot. Instead, he laid silently on the floor a lot (he would slowly scoot towards the couch and "sneakily" crawl on top of it, if he believed Aziraphale was too engrossed into his book to notice) and spoke up when he could no longer hold in his thoughts, cringing each time he opened his mouth.   
If Aziraphale got up and left the room, or moved just out of eyesight, Crowley would follow him. When Aziraphale noticed that Crowley had fallen asleep, it was then, and only then, he would allow himself to show the emotions he was holding. He would finally allow himself to cry, to aggressively clean things, to take a break. But each time, he made sure that he was quiet so he wouldn’t wake Crowley from his sleep.  
The only reason Crowley kept falling asleep wasn't out of wanting sleep, if anything, he was terrified of it; he was scared of both the consequences in the waking world, and the nightmares that came after him while he slept.   
No, he slept out of need. Sleep was no longer a luxury, in order to keep his corporation and himself alive, his body needed it due to the thin metal strip wrapped around his neck draining his powers that wasn't allowed to be taken off. He didn't need as much sleep as before once Aziraphale turned it down as much as he possibly could, but it was still needed.   
Crowley would stay awake until he practically fell unconscious from his body begging for the sleep. Even though nothing remotely negative happened to him any more each time when he woke up, the fear was still very much there.  
After the war was over, Aziraphale's schedule mostly consisted of mostly sleeping, reorganizing his books sometimes, and going out of his way to find people who were in need of help when his guilt and fear became too much.  
But now, in attempts to make sure Crowley was doing more than laying about the bookshop all day and night, he started going on walks in the, miraculously empty, trail in the park, finding spots where stars were visible, and walking around small shops.  
He also had to learn how to make edible food multiple times a day to get Crowley to eat so he didn't rot away. Sleep wasn't the only thing that was needed.   
They never ate out, there were always far too many people that made Crowley uncomfortable and anxious, so he had to learn how to cook at home.  
Aziraphale noticed the, very slow, improvement that Crowley had started to make, and had to remind himself often not to scare Crowley into making things worse by getting too excited or ahead of himself.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of updates! I should begin posting regularly now.  
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated and welcome!  
> What do you think is going to happen next?


	7. Chapter 7

Ever since Crowley had taken residency at the bookshop, Aziraphale has been doing a lot more cooking and baking than he used to in order to keep Crowley alive. Actually, before now, Aziraphale can’t remember a time when he  _ made _ food, just ate it, hardly questioning how it was made, he just enjoyed it. That being said, trying to get Crowley to eat was like trying to feed a toddler who only wanted to ever eat the same thing over and over, and never wanted to consume any vegetables. 

Crowley, who never really took to eating before, didn’t know what he liked aside from a couple things, but if one thing is for sure, Aziraphale noted, he seemed to have a sweet tooth. Aziraphale would use that to his advantage.

Whenever Crowley was supplied with any food, especially if it resembled anything relatively healthy, would sniff the food, as if he was trying to see if it was poisoned or if something was wrong with it, make a face, try a couple bites, and push the plate away slightly. He would wrinkle his nose and try to wipe off the offending taste onto a napkin. He would then fold his arms over his stomach, and look away from Aziraphale. 

This had been going on for little over a week, and Aziraphale was running out of things to make. Whenever he asked if there was anything that Crowley wanted, he’d just shrug. A few times, Aziraphale had tried to get Crowley to help him make his meals so he knew exactly what was going in the food, in hopes he would be more tempted to eat it- that only proved to do the exact opposite.

Because miracaling up whole foods was semi more complicated than just going out and buying it pre made and packaged, (and didn't taste nearly as good as non miracled up food) Aziraphale decided that he would go out to the small store, not too far from the bookshop, and try to find decently healthy food he could get Crowley to eat while he was there to restock the ingredients in his cupboards that were rapidly diminishing. 

So, that’s where he is right now; in the small grocery store, with Crowley anxiously following him. Aziraphale had asked if he would rather stay at the bookshop, knowing that it may be a little much for him when he could hardly stand going to a mostly empty park, plus he would hardly be a block away, but Crowley was adamant about going with him.

In truth, Crowley was scared to be left on his own. Before all of what happened to him and the other demons, he didn’t mind being on his own. Was it boring and annoying at times? Absolutely. But he wasn’t  _ scared _ of being left alone, just as he was scared of  _ not  _ being left alone.

“Dear, look at this.” Aziraphale said, holding up a box of granola bars in Crowley’s field of vision. “They have little chocolate chips in them!” The box was brightly coloured, promising that it was a healthy snack, while still having candies in them. 

Aziraphale desperately hoped that the trick of companies adding tiny pieces of chocolate to relatively healthy foods, to trick people into buying and eating it, would work on Crowley as well. Instead, he made a face as if the box had offended him in some way, but didn’t say anything, nothing to give away  _ why _ he didn’t like-or think that he wouldn’t like- the food. Aziraphale sighed and put the box back in its place on the shelf. 

The angel had thought that Crowley having all these options sitting right there for him would be much easier than trying to make random food back at the bookshop in hopes the demon will like  _ something _ besides the cinnamon rolls Aziraphale made. Instead, he was given a face of disgust each time Aziraphale showed him food that he thought he might like. 

Aziraphale didn't know what to do in this situation; Crowley was constantly half a step behind him, shying away from anyone that happened to be in the same aisle as them. He was skittish and jumpy, and Aziraphale didn't know how to help, he tried reassuring the demon that he was okay, nothing was going to happen to him, but that didn't do anything to help whatsoever. Instead, he felt the slight guilt from Crowley for feeling as anxious as he was, which only made Aziraphale feel worse. So, he opted to try and pretend he didn't notice the way Crowley had practically clinged to him the whole time.

“Crowley,” the angel started with a tired sigh, running a hand down his face, “you need to find  _ something _ you might like.”

“What you make is already more than fine.” Crowley replied in a small voice.

“Everytime you eat something I make, you nearly gag.” Aziraphale said plainly. Crowley cringed into himself, causing Aziraphale to realize that he was most definitely scaring him, so he tries to hide the fact he is becoming a little annoyed. Aziraphale had to keep reminding himself that he can’t talk to Crowley the way he used to. Everything he did and said around the demon had to be carefully planned out.

“It is  _ fine _ that you are a picky eater.” Aziraphale tried again, this time in a much lighter tone. “You just need to eat, and it will be a lot more tolerable if you  _ liked _ the food you were eating.”

Crowley, instead of saying something, just looks over Aziraphale’s shoulder to avoid looking in his eyes, or at him at all really.

“How about this.” Aziraphale says, grabbing Crowley’s attention again. “I will purchase some snacks that you can try, if you want. And then, there are  _ plenty _ of cookbooks, and recipes on the internet even. We can look through those, see if anything catches your eye?”

“Okay.” Crowley nods in small motion.

"Alright." Aziraphale smiles at their compromise.

The rest of the time that they were mostly grabbing basic things such as flour, eggs, milk, fruit, etc., Crowley had seemed to be ever so slightly less anxious.  _ Was he worried I'd be upset if he didn't find food for himself? _ Aziraphale wondered to himself, deciding that he needs to be more careful of hiding the even slightest annoyance.

When they got back to the bookshop, Aziraphale unpacked the groceries, making sure that Crowley knew where the premade food was in case he had gotten hungry, since he was proven to be clumsy and forgetful in the kitchen, they had agreed it probably wasn’t safe for him to make food with the stove top and oven on his own quite yet. They would get there in time. 

While Crowley watched him finish unpacking, Aziraphale tried to suppress a grin when he reached into the final bag.

"I grabbed this for you especially." Aziraphale said, carefully pulling out a tiny succulent. While they were buying food, he had noticed a pot where it surely didn’t belong, and noticed the small plant inside said pot, and sneakily grabbed it, hoping Crowley didn't notice until he took it out of the bag when they got back.

As soon as Crowley noticed what he was holding, he perked up, trying to get a good look at the succulent Aziraphale was holding. The fleshy leaves were a light green with a soft pink lining each leaf; he noticed that the succulent had started to get ready to be leggy if it wasn’t placed in a sunny spot pronto.

"Thank you." He said in a genuinely happy voice when Aziraphale handed the succulent to him. “Uhm. . .” Crowley started, “where should this be put?” Crowley asked, not taking his eyes off the small echeveria, holding it close to him, as if he was terrified that the plant was going to be taken away from him. As if this was all a game; get him comfortable where he was going to be staying, gift him things without reason, pretend to care for his health and safety, only to rip everything away from him to have a laugh.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Crowley  _ did _ fear those things were bound to happen. He was in a constant battle with himself whether to trust Aziraphale or not. 

Before Heaven won the war, he easily trusted Aziraphale with his life. Crowley, a demon, the original tempter, trusted Aziraphale, an angel, a principality, guardian of the Eastern Gate, to not hurt him in any way purposefully. He had always known he should never have gone up to the angel if he wanted to live, especially after the whole apple business, but he did. Without a doubt.

But now, with fear trained into him, he didn’t trust Aziraphale, or his motives, whatever they may be, for a moment. Crowley  _ wanted _ to trust him, not be terrified around him, but he couldn’t help it.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much of anything about how to take care of plants.” Aziraphale smiled. “Wherever you think, I would imagine would be best.”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, skeptical. He bought something that was going to be placed in  _ his _ home, it only made sense that there was a specific place he wanted it. Right?

“You know, there  _ is _ a spare bedroom.” Aziraphale tried again, he has lost count on how many times he tried to gently persuade Crowley to sleep in a  _ bed _ rather than on the floor. 

“The kitchen window provides enough sun.” Crowley said, although how he said it sounded much more like a question, if he was allowed to put it there. Aziraphale only smiled and moved to put the bags away in a cabinet, so Crowley assumed that he didn’t at least  _ mind  _ the plant being placed there.

\---

Later that night, Crowley had fallen asleep sitting up, leaning on the couch, slowly sliding all the way down to the floor. Aziraphale was tempted to just move him onto the couch to sleep more comfortably, as he had much more than a handful of times in the past, but had quickly decided that doing so probably wasn’t the smartest idea. He had no idea how easily Crowley would wake up anymore, he was certainly too skittish in the waking world to be a heavy sleeper anymore.

Once Aziraphale was sure that he was going to stay asleep until his body believed he was rested enough, he got up from his beloved chair, putting the book he was previously trying to focus on reading down on the small coffee table.

He walked up the spiral staircase as quietly as he could, and made his way to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He couldn’t bottle up any more of his emotions, and sat down where he was standing.

He put his head in his hands, trying to wipe away the fast coming tears, but it was no use. Aziraphale’s breathing stuttered as he sobbed, harshly wiping at his nose as it began to run just as the water from his eyes did. Even though he knew it was useless to do so, he tried to hold in all the tears and mucus that came with the sobs of frustration. 

Only trying to hold everything in made his body only shake with pent up anger, and annoyance, and anxiety, and guilt, and every other emotion that did a total on him. Aziraphale choked on a sob, causing him to go into a short coughing fit, making it even more difficult to breath.

“It isn’t fair.” Aziraphale said between sniffling and choking on air. “Why are you letting this happen?” His voice remained quiet as he spoke, even though he could feel his throat tighten with the want to scream on top of his lungs.

Aziraphale knew that he wasn’t going to get an answer from Her, but that didn’t mean that he wanted an answer. He knew that She could hear him, just as he could hear and see everything that went on. 

“Why didn’t you stop any of it?” He asked. “There were **_so many_** lives lost in the War. _So many_ opportunities to stop all of this. Don’t you care? Even a little bit?”

There was, of course, no answer. The only thing he was able to hear was his quick, heavy breathing, and the deep sniffling.

“You  _ let _ him- and so many others, go through so much pain. Never letting up on any of it. It would only take one word from you to end it all.” Aziraphale took a few deep breaths before he continued. “ **_You_ ** let your children fight until the other side was too few to fight. Until they were scared for their lives, swallowed up their pride and gave up.”

Aziraphale stood up, one hand holding tightly to his other arm, nails beginning to dig into his skin.

“How _dare_ you treat _my_ only friend like that? He never did anything wrong. How _dare_ you let those, those. . . _those angels_ stay in what’s supposed to be a peaceful place? They did so much worse than question! ” His voice began to slowly raise in volume. “Oh, but _you_ didn't do it, not directly at least. That’s what matters, right? That you are not the one who dirtied their hands. You were not the one **_murdered_** so many innocent lives.” 

Aziraphale picked up a framed photograph of him and Crowley that sat on a nightstand by his bed. He took in how  _ happy _ Crowley was then. He let memories of him and Crowley laughing together play through his mind. He remembered the “evil deeds” that Crowley did that weren't half as bad as the pranks highschool or college aged kids pulled. How, throughout the years, he would try to act ‘cool and mysterious’, how he excitedly rambled on about things, and all of the other happy memories that came from living.

“He’s terrified of  _ living _ !” Aziraphale shouted, throwing the frame across the room, watching the glass shatter across the wall. “He’s terrified of  **_me_ ** , aI dond n’t know what to do!”

Hot tears streamed down his face, as well as mucus came running out his nose, but he no longer paid no mind to either of them.

“ _ Any _ help would be nice. Any hints of what to do would even be phenomenal!” The angel no longer cared in that moment how loud he had become, how loud he let his shouting get.

“Maybe the ones who fell did so because you were  _ scared _ of them. That’s just it, isn’t it? They, rightfully, questioned you and your motives, and you threw them out because you were scared that all the angels would start to be curious and ask questions too. You threw your  _ children _ out, who looked up to you like a  _ mother. _ You threw them out, and ever since then, everyone was too scared to do the right thing, even if it was diviating what they believed was your plan.”

Aziraphale took a few moments to try and get his breathing back in order, to try to wipe away his tears so he was able to see beyond the blur, but just as it was before, it was pointless.

“When is the last time anyone has even  _ heard _ from you? When you asked me what happened to my sword?  _ Are you even up there still? _ ” Aziraphale began to laugh to himself, even though the situation was anything but funny. 

“ **_It isn’t fair_ ** !” Aziraphale yelled so loud, he thought for a moment he felt the house shake. “Crowley is nothing but terrified, and I can’t do anything to help! Those. . . those  _ bastards _ of angels hurt him so bad to the point he thinks all I want to do is  _ harm _ him in some way!”

Aziraphale took out his anger through kicking a whole in his old, wooden walls. Never before had he gotten this angry, never before had he felt so alone. Throughout his sobs and kicking and throwing books at the walls, he didn’t hear Crowley walking up the stairs. He didn’t hear the soft knock on the door.

“It isn’t fair, it isn’t fair, it isn’t fair!” He kept repeating, sounding like a broken record.

He stopped his shouting when he heard the door open and a very quiet, and  terrified “Aziraphale?”

It was only then he realized how he had absolutely trashed his room.  _ Nothing I can’t fix with a miracle _ . He turned so he could see the watery image of Crowley cowering at the doorway.


	8. Chapter 8

“You see this?” Gabriel held out a shallow, ceramic bowl that was white with a golden rim.

“‘S a bowl. I’m not blind, you know.” Crowley jokes.

“Look closer, demon.” The archangel moved the bowl in small side to side motions, letting the contents splash around just enough so it wouldn't spill.

“Water.” Crowley says bordly, fully well knowing what  _ kind _ of water it is; there was an instinctual fear lingering, warning him about the danger. Crowley couldn’t let him know that though, so he hid his fear with jokes.

“Yes.” Gabriel said through his toothy smile, annoyed. “But what  _ kind _ .”

Crowley hummed. “Filtered? Looks filtered.”

“It’s-” Gabriel bagan with a shout, cutting himself with a cough, then trying again in his eerily calm manner. “It’s  _ holy _ water. You  _ do _ know what it does to unholy creatures such as yourself, yes?”

“Yup.” Crowley replied in his dramatic way. “Killed a demon with that stuff myself. Turned into a pile of goo, he did.” He paused, pretending to think for a moment. “I took a bath in that stuff before in Hell. Prince Beelzebub looked pretty impressed, if you asked me.” 

“Then, you won’t mind if I. . .” Gabriel took a large stride forward, letting the water splash around in the bowl. Crowley flinched a little, trying to not take a step backwards, Gabriel took notice with a smile.

“I knew it.” The archangel said in a whisper, taking another step towards Crowley, the bowl centimeters away from the now shaking demon. “You aren’t resistant to holy water, are you?” He said more than asked when Crowley took a step as far back as the chains bolted to the ground allowed him.

“Just instincts, really.” Crowley laughed nervously. “Spend six thousand years fearing something, it's not gonna disappear as soon as you find out it isn’t harmless.”

Gabriel remained standing there with a smile.

“Just ask Michael, that dude saw it. They will vouch for me.” Crowley said, trying to fill in the silence. “Seriously, stuff’s harmless on me.”

Gabriel still didn’t say anything, just reached into the ceramic bowl, wetting his fingers, and resting them on his thumb, getting ready to flick some at Crowley. “Shall we test it then?”

“Nope.” Crowley said, desperately trying to hide the fear in his eyes. But without his sunglasses, the black slits were easily seen, turning into lines as thin as paper. The archangel looked smug about this. “No need.”

Gabriel flicked the water at Crowley anyways, resulting in him jumping away from the droplets. Crowley looked at the floor where the holy water landed, noting to be mindful of that area when Gabriel and the lights leave the stone room. Gabriel raised an amused eyebrow at Crowley.

“Instincts.” Crowley hissed through his teeth. 

Gabriel hummed in response as he sat the bowl in Crowley’s reach, walking out, closing the door behind him, the room once again turning pitch black.

Crowley stared back at fowarth in the spot where the holy water was splattered, and where the shallow bowl, still full of holy water, was resting.

\---

“Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice was barely above a whisper, full of instant guilt and regret.

Aziraphale took a step forward, resulting in Crowley stumbling backwards, tripping on his own feet. When he fell to the ground, he curled into himself, arms tightly around his head in attempts to protect himself. Crowley was trembling and whispering something over and over.

Aziraphale didn’t move any closer, quickly realizing that trying to move towards him was a mistake, that in hindsight, should have been something obvious not to do. He crouched down, still a handful of feet away from Crowley, and sighed, not knowing what to do.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you my dear.” Aziraphale said in an apologetic tone. Crowley kept mumbling, not showing that he heard what the angel said. “I can’t understand you, Crowley.” Aziraphale said gently, sitting on the floor where he was.

“Please don’t, please- I can’t, please-” Crowley choked on a sob.

_ Do what? _ Aziraphale asked himself.  _ He knows I would never. . . oh you stupid,  _ **_stupid_ ** _ angel.  _

Crowley was already not trusting of him, scared that he was tricking him, planning to hurt him,  _ something _ , and even Aziraphale had promised he would do none of those things, that didn’t stop the fear from being there. 

Aziraphele knew he could never even think about doing anything to hurt the demon, but with screaming and throwing things around, he only fed into those fears of Crowley’s. 

Crowley had just begun to not fear falling asleep without consequences for doing something his body needs, and he just woke up to Aziraphale, an angel, someone who he was still very weary and scared of, screaming and making a mess out of a room upstairs out of frustration.

“I’m sorry that I woke you.” Aziraphale said, wiping dried tears off his cheeks. “And that I frightened you.” He looked back over to Crowley, who was still curled into himself tightly, shaking. 

Aziraphale had learned throughout the many years of living on Earth that when someone is scared of you for whatever reason it may be, if you pretend to not notice they are there, and do something calmly, they tend to relax. So that’s what he decided to do, get off the floor and start cleaning the mess he made.

Although he was very tempted to do the task with a snap of his fingers, he knew that doing so would probably only scare Crowley even more. 

He first picked up the photograph that he threw at the wall, collecting and sweeping up all the glass pieces and safely disposed the shards in a bin. He took out the photograph itself, and safely set it on the now messy bedside table, tossing away the remaining bits of the frame.

Aziraphale swept up the dust from the wall, making a mental note to miracle the holes away later. One by one, the angel picked up the thrown books, inspecting each for any damage, and made a pile near the doorway for the ones that needed a little patchwork.

Each book he sat down near the doorway gave him a perfect excuse to check on Crowley. He made sure to keep a distance between them so Crowley wouldn't get any more scared than he already was.

Eventually, Crowley slowly sat up from his spot, and watched Aziraphale move about. He kept a close eye on the blond from where he sat while he picked at his nails.

“Do you, uhm.” Crowley was barely audible, if Aziraphale wasn't listening, he would've missed it. “Do you need any help?” 

Aziraphale turned around, book in hand and a soft smile on his face. “Hmm.” He pretended to think for half a second. “I think I’m good.”

“Do you… want help? With anything?” Crowley tried again, getting more confidence in his voice.

“Would you like to help make dinner?” Aziraphale asked, knowing that this was something Crowley already helped with so he knew what exactly was in the food.

“No fair.” Crowley huffed. “I already help with meals.” Aziraphale let out a faint laugh. “That’s still a yes.” Crowley added quickly, becoming worried that he wasn’t going to be allowed to help.

When Aziraphale carried the books down to the bookshop to place them on the table covered with other books that needed attention, Crowley looked through recipes at the table in the back room.

“Find anything?” Aziraphale asked when he walked in. Crowley handed over his mobile with a recipe popped up. “Ratatouille?” 

“Like the movie about the rats.” Crowley nodded, taking back his phone. 

“Alright,” Aziraphale chuckled, washing his hands. “What do we need?”

Crowley squinted at his phone, reading off the ingredients.


End file.
